Page 68 of Ms. Lead

What I didn’t expect, and I have mixed emotions about, is that the media want to discuss my new book project more than the book I’m touring on. Darcie isn’t sure how to feel about it either, so I’m left to fend for myself on what I can or should say about it.

“So, are you going to include your personal experience about living with MS in this new book?” a young and eager reporter asks. He’s the third interview of the day and the first to directly or indirectly ask if I have MS. This is a clever way to ask the question, and I respect the care that went into it.

“I am, actually. I was diagnosed about eighteen months ago, and the journey from then until now has been quite enlightening.”

He arches a curious brow. “Enlightening? How so?”

Well shit. I guess I need to follow up on that, don’t I?

“When I was first diagnosed. No, actually, the entire first year was dreadful. A nightmare, really.” I shift a little in my seat. It’s suddenly hot in this studio, and the lights are too bright. “I was a bit of a monster at first. I didn’t understand my limits and found myself pushing them too far quite often. That would, of course, only feed the monster, and other people would get hurt in the process. I became extraordinarily good at that, unfortunately. Hurting other people.”

He stares at me a moment, maybe surprised at my candor or stumped on how to follow that up.

“Have you made amends? To those you hurt?”

It’s my turn to be surprised, and I’m not sure if the question is intended to pursue the train of thought, or if it’s proffered to expose some sort of drama. In the end, it’s a legitimate question. My thoughts instantly snap to Bianca. The biggest apology not yet given. The amends I’m dying to make.

“Not everyone. But soon. I hope to very soon.”

Behind the reporter, I see Darcie nod to herself as if my answer just confirmed something for her. She gives me a knowing look, and I think she now understands my intentions during the tour break. And who I’m referring to when I say ‘soon.’ I guess I wasn’t going to be able to keep it a secret for very long anyway, so it ultimately doesn’t matter that she knows.

“I also understand that you’ll not be taking royalties for this project. Is that true? What’s the story there?”

“It is indeed true. Not only do I want to share real-life stories about living with MS, but I want to help fund organizations that maintain a person’s independence as long as possible, because not everyone has the support they need.”

“Do you have any particular charities in mind?”

My research into charities has settled me on a particular focus. “Yes, actually. Service dogs have become a real source of support for people with MS. They can help with balance issues, household tasks, and even pulling wheelchairs if necessary. They are frightfully expensive to train, and rightly so since they do such an important job. So, I will be focusing on those sorts of programs.”

Part of me doesn’t like talking about the royalty issue because I don’t want to appear pretentious. The last thing I want to do is try to sound like a better person than I am. I was perfectly happy not discussing it at all. However, Darcie convinced me that letting it be known might increase interest in the book and subsequent sales, so I conceded the point. I hope it does both.

As the tour continues to drag on, my anticipation of the reconciliation I referred to in the interview grows to the point of distraction.

For me, ‘soon’ isn’t soon enough.

Chapter Thirty-Six

BIANCA

NEED YOU NOW

Early February

The rest of the holiday season is full of activity. I join my brother in Los Angeles for Christmas and finally meet his girlfriend. She is beautiful and lovely, and I’ve never seen my brother so smitten with another human being. Theresa definitely received my sisterly seal of approval.

New Year’s was spent again at the Carmichael’s for their annual party. It’s a much more formal affair than Thanksgiving was, and I got the feeling that Normandy and Brandon were trying to hook me up with Brandon’s brother Jon. While he was charming and not too harsh on the eyes, neither of us was interested. It was nice to have someone to speak to most of the evening, but that was about it. I ended up heading home not long after midnight.

Each holiday was bittersweet for me. I enjoyed my friends and family, but I also felt incredibly alone. Probably more alone than I’ve ever felt. I used to be able to do things solo, but ever since Oliver left, the sense of something missing from my life has only grown. To this day, I’m still haunted by his absence.

The rest of January dragged on, each day feeling longer than the last. And now, February is here, and it’s impossible not to focus on what’s not going to happen in a few weeks. Not just because I’ll be in Italy for Gina’s wedding, but because Oliver won’t be here anyway.

As much as I want to think that he meant anything he said, I also read between the lines, between his words, and know that it’s a lost cause. I don’t get the happily ever after.

A week before I leave for Italy, I step into the break room at work for a coffee refill when I hear Oliver’s voice. I freeze in place, unable to breathe.

What the hell?

“That would, of course, only feed the monster, and other people got hurt in the process. I became extraordinarily good at that unfortunately. Hurting other people.”

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